Paradise isn't Real
by Amei
Summary: Just a narutocentric angstoneshot fic. Aren't those fun?


One-shotish Naruto-centric angsty goodness.

This actually started me off on that weird naruto angst fic kick I've been on lately. I wrote it in May, I think...and I have no idea where it came from. Aren't those types of fics the best?

It's really vague, which is kind of fun, since everybody has their own view of it. It focuses on emotion and not much else, because angst is best served cold.

...I guess.

Oh, and the ebon haired person is Sasuke...obviously.

The words in ()s are my original inspiration for this fic. It was a poem I had written beforehand...and I felt that maybe it fit within the fic better than alone.

...Oh, and Naruto definitely isn't mine.

**Paradise isn't Real**

The facade was good, he would admit, nearly good enough to fool. The one thing he couldn't disguise, manipulate, mold into the perfect definition of happiness-were his eyes. Those damnable cerulean orbs that betrayed him, betrayed his true self to the world, and left him bare, and unguarded, and **o p e n**.

(You know that I've seen paradise)

His smile was there, vibrant as always, but his looked upon the world with tired eyes. Those expressionless times when they would like nothing better than to stop always **l y i n g **and close, and drift, and stare into **o b l i v i o n**, maybe, or something similar-

(Though I doubt it may be real)

Crash. There goes that f_ragile _world around him, the stained glass windows that were useless, for them never let anyone see _i n_ but only **_o u t_**-

(And it seems like this is numbing me)

Like someone left too **long** to **dream**, and whisper little **c o m f o r t s **to themselves, cleverly disguised as _lies _maybe, or something like that, but it didn't matter, in the end, because whoever's voice it was, he would listen, with all a** t t e n t i v e n e s **s, and try and prove to himself that he wasn't **c r a z y **yet, he couldn't be, because, dammit, he couldn't lose to anyone, not now, not **e v e r.**

(And it seems like this is lost)

But of course, the voice always left him, eventually, and it never worked for long-just a temporary fix, a **breakable** solution-

Because, hey, the **e n d s **justify the _m e a n s, _don't they?

(And it seems that you are killing me)

And then the voice fell silent.

And something would snap, and resound in his head like a psychotic **m a n t r a, **and one day he would realize that dreaming _was _his sanity, and he would much rather stay there, in the **e n d.**

(In that abstract way of yours)

And around that time, that little repeating voice in his head would manage to make his **broken** words **truth**, and little tidbits of comfort-

like glass, like ruthlessly broken fragments- and you knew, you knew that they would **h u r t **you, but they were so **c a p t i v a t i n g **and you just had to grab one for yourself, even though it cuts, deeply, and makes you bleed and cry and _s c r e a m-_

It's **_worth_** it for that one moment.

That one moment when he wouldn't see the shadows of those crimson eyes, staring madly at him from every corner, every back alleyway, hunting, **s ta l k i n g** him with their image, and keeping him there, that place he so loathed, pinning him to the spot and making him, forcing him to see that flash of ebon that he was **sure** wasn't there, and making him watch illusions of what _could _have been, what _should_ have been-

And so the **endless** morning wouldn't seem so long, with his little fragments of **lies**-turned-**truth** and hurting comfort and deserved agony-

and he was glad for that.

(And to think, that I've seen paradise)

So he would do this, again and again, clutching desperately to the edge of his sanity, **running** his tanned fingers through the liquid moonlight and wondering where hewas-

(And have come away unchanged)

And he would stare at you, and analyze, and catalog, seeing but not really all there, because, y'know, that Naruto died a long time ago-

And, like you know, the dead can't come back -

Usually.

(And y'know, sometimes, it's okay to let the music take you)

(And convince you to live within the lies of paradise.)


End file.
